


Fight or Foreplay

by Mel_and_Christy



Category: Bleach
Genre: Fluff and Crack, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-30
Updated: 2014-04-21
Packaged: 2017-12-06 23:21:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/741367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mel_and_Christy/pseuds/Mel_and_Christy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A completely and totally INSANE Bleach silly fic, by Mel and Christy.<br/>(Kenpachi + Ichigo + Grimmjow, with Yachiru for innocent innuendo and Ishida to get Ichigo realising what’s up.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. "Adjective or Verb?"

## Adjective or Verb?

 

“Icchy!”

“Oh, hey Yachiru,” Ichigo said, turning to greet the tiny pink-haired Shinigami. “Oi, wait, is Kenpachi here too? What’s up?”

“Nope, Ken-chan isn’t here,” she said cheerfully, hopping across to sit on the roof next to him. “He wanted to come visit, but there was paperwork and stuff.”

“Huh.” Momentarily boggled at the mental image of Zaraki Kenpachi sitting at a desk -- if there was anyone less suited to wielding a pen instead of a sword, he didn’t know them -- Ichigo blinked, then shook his head. “So what brings you to the living world? Trouble?”

“Candy!”

_Oh gods. Yachiru on a sugar high, yeah, that’s trouble._

“You want to come shopping too? We could get candy for you!”

“Ah, yeah, no thanks. I’m on patrol right now, sorry,” Ichigo shrugged, genuinely thankful that he had an excuse.

“Awww. Oh well! I’ll bring you back some candy anyway, okay Icchy? Bye!” And she was gone, flash-stepping across the rooftops in the direction of the Urahara Shouten.

_…Yachiru, on a sugar high, is going to be bringing me candy. **Please** let something happen before she gets back. Hollows. Espada. **Anything!**_

\----------

“Taichou, I’m not **allowed** to do the paperwork for you!”

“Yes you are, I’m ordering you to aren’t I?”

“No, Taichou, I mean that after the last time--”

“Which wouldn’t have been a problem if you hadn’t doodled ideas for new hairstyles on the back of it,” Ikkaku muttered from the doorway, where he was pretending to be not-listening.

“--Yamamoto-soutaichou himself ordered me not to do it for you again,” Yumichika said apologetically.

“Even if I threaten you? He won’t blame you then.”

Yumichika sweatdropped theatrically. “Ah. Well. You have a point there, Taichou, but Unohana-taichou has mentioned that anyone giving in to physical threats to do your paperwork will not get the **nice** treatment options the next time they require her squad’s assistance. And since we in the Eleventh require the Fourth a **lot** \--”

“Oi, oi, wait, since when did Unohana care if you lot do the paperwork for me?!”

“Since Ikkaku screwed up the paperwork that was meant to have half the Fourth’s bandage supplies paid for out of our budget. That’s still not sorted out, and--”

“It’s not like **I’d** get it right either!”

“No, Taichou, but when an accountant is told a third seat messed up the paperwork, they say ‘Tough, fix it yourself, and we want the new paperwork in triplicate’. When they’re told **you** messed up the paperwork, they say ‘OH I’LL FIX IT DON’T WORRY’.”

“Fuck!”

\----------

_Rampaging ghosts. Menos Grande. Hell, I’ll take a visit from Don Kan’onji, Mister Bo-hahahaha himself, **anything** \--_

The alarm on his badge squawked at the same moment as he felt the wrenching sensation of something large ripping through into Karakura, and he grinned.

_Yes! Something to fight! A reason not to be here when the Pink Menace comes back! Today must be my lucky day!_

\----------

“…Today is **not** my lucky day,” Ichigo sighed, staring gloomily at the Gargantua. More accurately, he was staring at the blue-haired Espada floating in front of the black rip in the sky.

“Kurosaki! Just who I wanted to see!” Grimmjow said, grinning madly.

“That does not make me feel happier. What do you want, Grimmjow?”

“Oh, the usual. A good fight, your blood, a little exercise. Let’s go!” And the Espada charged, ripping out his sword.

“Why did I even ask?” Ichigo muttered, swinging Zangetsu up to block.

Grimmjow’s mood was contagious, though, and he soon found himself grinning back as they both did their best to smack each other across the sky. It was like sparring with Zaraki, fighting something like a sentient blender set to ‘puree’ that was doing its best to mince him and yet was so damn **happy** about it he couldn’t help enjoying himself.

“Now that’s more like it, Shinigami,” Grimmjow chuckled, razor-edged grin widening as he raised one glowing hand. “Ain’t no fun if we’re not both giving it all we got… so how about we take it up a level?”

 _Happy sentient blender with **lasers** , right._ Not bothering to answer, Ichigo dropped back a step and lifted Zangetsu in front of him, both hands on the hilt-- though, come to think of it, Grimmjow would probably consider that stance a perfectly good answer.

“ **Bankai!** Tensa Zangetsu! Getsuga Tenshou!”

“Eat this!” And Grimmjow fired his Cero.

The black arc of energy and red Cero annihilated each other, the resulting explosion blowing the two fighters further apart. Skidding to a halt in mid-air, Ichigo took a breath and tightened his hands on his swordhilt. One leg of his hakama was shredded, a couple of his bruises were deep enough to stick around for a couple of days, he was bleeding from a dozen small cuts, and **damn** but he felt alive!

Grimmjow was laughing as the air cleared, and Ichigo snickered despite himself. He’d marked the Espada too, leaving one sleeve of his white outfit hanging by a thread, and on the whole he figured they were about equal on points.

“Had enough exercise yet?” he called, smirking.

“Hell no! We’re just getting started here, Kurosaki, don’t wimp out on me yet!” Crouching like a cat, Grimmjow narrowed his eyes as he prepared to charge again, and--

\--something blurred into view from the side and swung, whacking Grimmjow solidly across the side of the head with… a large white shopping bag full of sweets?

“No playing with Icchy!” Yachiru shouted angrily, glowing deadly pink.

“What the **fuck**?!” Grimmjow staggered backwards, one hand going to where she’d hit him and coming away bloody. (Part of Ichigo noted, a little grumpily, that she’d done more damage to him with several boxes of Pocky and who knew how many bags of hard candy than he’d managed with his sword.)

\----------

Pink.

Grimmjow blinked in bewilderment, wondering if the hit to his head had scrambled his vision somehow. No… no, everything else was still the right colour, so… Pink.

Tiny. And pink. **Glowing** pink, that was, with an impressive amount of reiatsu producing a killing aura that was seriously concentrated.

And pink.

“What the fuck, Kurosaki, you’ve got a pink midget bodyguard now?”

“Oi, don’t blame me for her!”

The Pink Avenger interrupted, pointing one tiny finger in his direction. “Hey! You don’t get to play with Icchy! Icchy is Ken-chan’s toy!”

“OI!” Kurosaki sputtered, apparently unable to come up with anything more coherent.

“Huh.” Recovering his composure, Grimmjow glared at the tiny (pink) Shinigami. “Oi, pinky, don’t you try to give me orders! If I wanna play with Kurosaki I’m damn well gonna play with him!”

“Ken-chan has more fun playing with Icchy than he has in **ages** , so Icchy--”

“Don’t I get a say in this?” Kurosaki asked plaintively.

“No!” Grimmjow and the pink thing yelled together.

“…Fuck this. Grimmjow, that’s Yachiru. Yachiru, that’s Grimmjow. Have fun, don’t break the town, I’m going home.”

“Hey, Kurosaki, don’t leave me hanging here with the fucking pink midget-- aw, shit. Now see what you’ve done!”

Pinky sniffed haughtily, crossing her arms. “It’s not **my** fault if Icchy doesn’t want to play with you.”

“We were having a perfectly good fight until you showed up and ticked him off!” Grimmjow snarled under his breath, sheathing his sword. “Damn. I was having fun, too.”

She studied him for a moment, then held out the bag. “Want some candy?”

\----------

“Finally!” Kenpachi slammed the last form down on the pile, shoved them into Yumichika’s arms, and stalked out of his office. “I’m outta here. Ikkaku, I’m going out--”

“Ken-chan, tadaima!”

“--huh. Yachiru? Where’ve you been?”

“Visiting Icchy and getting candy! But then Grimmy showed up and Icchy had to go home.”

“… **Grimmy**?”

* * * * *

Ichigo stood on thin air high above Karakura, staring around himself.

_Well, today’s been quiet so far--_

“Yo.”

 _\--why the **fuck** did I think that?! I know what happens when I think that!_ “Hi, Kenpachi. Got the paperwork done, huh?”

“Nah, I shoved it off on Makimaki. What’s this Yachiru tells me about some jerk called Grimmy?”

“…Grimmy?”

“Yeah. Blue hair, toothy mask bit, likes sour apple hard candy, fights with you and you never thought about maybe **telling** me about him?”

Ichigo blinked, finally turning around to stare at the belled Shinigami. “What the fuck, Zaraki, why would I need to tell you about some other jerk who shows up to fight me all the time?”

“All the time, huh?” Zaraki folded his arms, scowling. “How long’s this been going on?”

“…Why are you mad?!”

“You’re cheatin’ on me and I’m not supposed to be mad?!”

“What the-- seriously, Zaraki, what the **fuck** , are you nuts? You sound like someone’s jealous boyffffffrrrrrrr ohhh shit you **are** jealous.”

“Do I got a reason to be?”

“ **No**! Shit, I do not belong to you, okay? I thought it was just Yachiru being silly about it, I am not your personal target or practice dummy or toy or whatever it is you’re thinking!”

A small pink head popped up from behind Zaraki’s shoulder. “But Icchy, Ken-chan--”

“Shaddap, Yachiru, the grownups are talking. Though I don’t know if Kenpachi counts as an adult right now, since he’s behaving like a thirteen-year-old girl with her first crush!” Ichigo took a deep breath, rubbing one hand across his eyes as he struggled to compose himself, then gave up. “Fuck this,” he muttered, grabbing Zangetsu’s hilt. “ **Bankai!** ”

Zaraki grinned, drawing his own sword with one hand as he reached up to take his eyepatch off with the other. “That’s better. I knew you liked me best.”

“Shut the fuck up and **die** already!”

* * * * *

“Kurosaki-kun.” Ishida Uryuu pushed his glasses up with one finger, eyeing his classmate out of the corner of his eye. “You look… tired.”

“Fucking Kenpachi,” Ichigo muttered, trudging along with his bag over his shoulder. “Fucking Grimmjow. They haven’t let me get any sleep so far this week.”

Ishida blinked. _Surely he doesn’t mean…_ “Kurosaki,” he said slowly, “when you say ‘fucking’, are you using it as an adjective or a verb?”

“Huh?”

“When’s the wedding? And to which of them? Or are you aiming for happily homicidal polyandry?”

“Huh? --Wait, what, you-- **EWW**!”

“Ah.” Ishida looked slightly disappointed. “Adjective, then.”

“Why the **hell** are you looking disappointed, you perverted Quincy jerk?! What is **wrong** with everyone all of a sudden?! First Grimmjow and Yachiru are arguing over who gets to ‘play’ with me, then Zaraki acts like a jealous lover, and now you?!”

“Believe me, Kurosaki, while I may be an interested spectator I am not planning to join the apparent competition for your… shall we say, time and attention,” Ishida told him coolly.

“Good, because there isn’t one! Not that way! They’re fighting over who gets to **fight** me, not-- wait, if I get them to fight each other they might just leave me alone,” Ichigo mused, distracted. “Then I could get some **sleep** , damn it.”

* * * * *

“Ichigo.”

“mmmrnzwf.”

“Ichigoooo?”

“zfp. mrnh,” Ichigo mumbled into his pillow, pulling the blankets higher over his head.

“OI! ICHIGO! WAKE UP, MORON!”

“BZWHUH?!” Flailing up out of the cocoon he’d constructed around himself, Ichigo squeaked in panic to find Abarai Renji standing over him, glaring. “Oh shit, Renji, not you too!”

“Not me what?” Renji looked confused, then scowled. “Don’t change the subject!”

“You hadn’t started talking yet, Renji; he doesn’t have a subject to change,” Rukia pointed out from the windowsill.

“Oh. Right. What are you doing in bed, Ichigo? You’re supposed to be out on patrol! Hollow activity has been increasing recently, this is no time to be slacking off!”

“Fucking Kenpachi,” Ichigo moaned, head dropping into his hands. “Fucking Grimmjow. Now fucking Renji. No fucking **sleep** …”

Rukia looked interested. “When you say ‘fucking’, are you--”

“Don’t go there! I’m surrounded by perverts and weirdos!”

“Which just makes the question even more pertinent,” she pointed out.

“It’s an adjective, okay?! I’m not verbing anyone!”

Rukia looked disappointed. Renji looked confused.

“What are you two doing here anyway? Please have some sort of nice, normal reason.”

Renji shrugged. “Like I said, Hollow activity has been picking up recently in this area, and a couple of readings have been worryingly strong. Have you run into anything unusual?”

“Yeah,” Ichigo said sourly. “Grimmjow. He and Kenpachi keep turning up to spar with me, though with Grimmjow it’s more ‘attempt to kill while laughing’.”

“Sounds like Zaraki-taichou to me,” Rukia muttered. “Are you sure it’s sparring and not foreplay?”

“Rukia! I swear, if you’re getting these ideas from those crap romances you keep reading, the next time I see you with one I’m gonna stuff it up your--”

Ichigo’s tirade was interrupted by his badge alarm going off, and he grabbed it, swearing. “You just watch, I bet that’s that blue-haired laser blender ass. This time I’m gonna puree **him** \-- no, wait.” He grinned suddenly. “Either of you got a hell butterfly on you?”

\----------

“Yo, Kurosaki! Where’s your pink bodyguard? I got some peppermints to swap her this time.”

“Grimmjow, if you give Yachiru more candy I swear I’ll kill you for real this time,” Ichigo growled, slouching.

“He’s an Espada?” Renji snapped, hand on his hilt. “I’ll--”

“No, Renji,” Rukia murmured, one hand on his sleeve. “Don’t get involved in a lovers’ quarrel.”

“What?!”

“Damn it, Rukia,” Ichigo sighed, more tired than annoyed. “Did I not make myself clear? Book. Insertion. Papercuts. Cut it out!”

“What the fuck, Kurosaki? More bodyguards?” Grimmjow looked mildly interested. “Oi, either of you got candy?”

“Nobody’s taking this seriously any more, are they?” Ichigo complained.

“I am!” Renji objected.

“I’m totally serious!” Grimmjow agreed. “I wanna fight! The candy is secondary. It’s not like I can just go shopping, y’know.”

“Yeah, well, you’ll get your fight, and probably your candy too if I know Yachiru,” Ichigo told him, grinning. “Ah, no, hold on!” he added hurriedly, holding up his hands in a ‘wait a second’ gesture as Grimmjow smirked and went for his sword. “Just wait a minute, he won’t be long.”

“‘He’?” the Espada asked suspiciously.

Before Ichigo could answer, a Senkaimon glowed into existence a short way off, then opened.

“Yo. Got yer butterfly, Ichigo,” Zaraki Kenpachi said, striding forward. “What’s up? Wanna spar?”

Ichigo’s grin widened. “Grimmjow, this is Zaraki Kenpachi, taichou of the 11th squad and all-around badass. Kenpachi, this is--”

“Grimmy!” Yachiru squealed, and a pink blur attached itself to Grimmjow at waist height. “Hi! I got more candy, want some?”

“--Grimmjow, 6th Espada and also all-around badass sentient blender, with bonus lasers. Settle it between yourselves, have fun, don’t break the town, I’m going back to bed now.”

\----------

“It’s too quiet.”

Staring at his ceiling, Ichigo twitched gently. It was, indeed, far too quiet. No flaring reiatsu. No red flashes of light across the sky as two insane blenders went at it. No sound of insurance premiums going up as bits of architecture mysteriously exploded.

“…I’m not going to be able to go to sleep until I’m sure this is sorted,” Ichigo sighed, and reached for his badge again.

\----------

Back where Grimmjow had opened his Gargantua, Ichigo blinked at the sight of Zaraki Kenpachi (11th squad taichou, terror of Seireitai, all-around badass) and Grimmjow (6th Espada, terror of Hueco Mundo, likewise all-around badass) making some sort of chart, using paper and crayons apparently supplied by Yachiru (11th squad fukutaichou, likewise terror of everywhere she went, pink badass).

“…nah, you can have Tuesdays,” Zaraki was rumbling, pointing at a space on the brightly coloured grid. “I’m stuck at the damn captains’ meetings on Tuesdays, and I can’t get out of ‘em the way I do paperwork.”

“What’s going on?” Ichigo whispered, sidling up to Renji.

“They’re making a schedule,” he shrugged, looking bemused.

“A schedule? Scheduling what?”

“Fights,” Rukia said, looking up from where she and Yachiru were drawing bunnies. (Probably bunnies. Yachiru’s pictures involved fangs and blood, and Rukia’s… well, she drew bunnies a lot, so it was either that or teddy bears.) “With you.”

“What the hell?” Ichigo gaped. “Damn it, I introduced them to each other so they’d **fight** each other, not cooperate on victimising me!”

“Oh, they’re going to fight each other too,” Renji told him. “And Yachiru is taking candy orders.”

“So which one of them are you going to sleep with?” Rukia asked cheerfully. “Or are you going to wait to see which of them wins?”

“DAMNIT RUKIA!”

“I think we should set up a betting pool,” Renji suggested, starting to walk away. Rukia got up to follow him. “We could make a serious profit, what with side bets on individual bouts--”

“RENJI!”

“I’m betting on Zaraki-taichou.”

“Yeah! Ken-chan’s the best!” Yachiru agreed enthusiastically. “Don’t worry, Icchy! Ken-chan will win you!”

“Oh, fuck the lot of you. As an adjective,” Ichigo added quickly, turning to go.


	2. "Betting Pool"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A completely and totally INSANE Bleach silly fic, by Mel and Christy.  
> (Kenpachi + Ichigo + Grimmjow, with assorted people putting their oars in making… ‘suggestions’ :P)

## “Betting Pool”

 

“Betting pool? Seriously?”

“Yeah, I hear the pot’s getting pretty big!”

“Who’s running it? I might put a bit on.”

“Abarai and Kuchiki. Yachiru--” 

“Kuchiki-taichou is running the betting pool?!”

“Oh get real, no. D’you really think he’d have anything to do with it? It’s his sister, Rukia. Yachiru has the schedule if you want to go watch the fights.”

“…People can **watch**?! Seriously?”

“Well, yeah! Why not? It’s a helluva lot of fun as long as you stay far enough away from Zaraki-taichou’s reiatsu. Get too close and you can’t breathe.”

“I thought they’d be hiding it for sure. I mean, if the captains find out, won’t there be trouble?”

“ _*snicker*_ Half the captains are already in the pool. Ukitake-taichou’s got money on each way, he says ‘to be fair’.”

“The next one’s tonight, wanna come?”

“I’ve got patrol…”

“All right, I’m in. There’s no way Zaraki-taichou can lose. D’you know what they’ve got the odds at?”

“--SSSHHHH!”

“Ah, uh, Yamamoto-soutaichou! Good morning!”

The elderly shinigami walked past with an acknowledging grunt as the group of shinigami bowed, trailed by his lieutenant.

“…Phew. He’s gone.”

“I thought you said the captains were okay with this?”

“Some of them are, sure. Some of them are ignoring it, some of them don’t know and are **not** getting told, okay, and Yamamoto-soutaichou **really** can’t find out! You know how strict he is about enforcing the letter of the law; how do you think he’d react if he found out that a captain and a substitute shinigami are **playing** with an Espada?”

“Not to mention the flirting.”

“…What flirting?”

“Dude. It’s foreplay. Seriously.”

\----------

“Fucking Kenpachi,” Ichigo muttered, slouching towards school. “Fucking Grimmjow. Fucking Yachiru. Fucking Renji. Fucking Rukia…”

“Your harem seems to be growing, Kurosaki.”

“Fucking Ishida!”

“Sorry. You’re not my type.”

“Do we have to go through the whole verb-adjective thing again? Because I **know** you’re just shittin’ me,” Ichigo growled, glaring ineffectually.

“So who are you scheduled to fight tonight?” Ishida asked, pushing his glasses up slightly. “And do you get any time off to recover?” he asked, eyeing the bruises and bandaids visible on Ichigo’s exposed skin.

“Kenpachi. The bastards only give me one night off a week, when they’re fighting each other instead, and-- hey, how come you know about the damn schedule they stuck me with?”

“Kuchiki-san, of course. She mentioned it when she took my bet.”

“ **YOU WHAT?!** ”

\----------

“Rukia, damn you!” Ichigo hissed, stalking up to her desk.

“Oh, Kurosaki-kuuuuun, what seems to be the problem?” Rukia smirked, voice sickeningly sweet.

“You’re taking bets from fucking **Ishida**?!”

“And is there any reason I shouldn’t? His money’s good.”

“That’s not the problem and you know it! This is all your fault anyway!”

“It was your idea to introduce Zaraki-taichou and Grimmjow, you know. You can’t blame that on me,” she said smugly. “And really, since the betting pool is the natural result of that situation, this is all **your** fault.”

“I didn’t make them be idiots about f-fighting me in the first place!” Tendons were standing out on Ichigo’s neck with the strain of keeping his voice down to something approaching a normal classroom volume.

“Ara, did you nearly use a different verb there? F-something?”

“No I did **not**! **That** is all your perverted imagination, and did I mention papercuts? You-- hold on.” He blinked, suddenly looking horrified. “Oi. Those bets you’re taking… are they about the fights, or the… other thing, that’s totally all in your head?”

“Oh, the fights, of course.” She paused just long enough for him to look relieved. “Mostly.”

“ **RUKIA!!!** ”

\----------

“Nemu!”

“Yes, Mayuri-sama?”

“What’s all the noise about? Disturbing my research…”

“I believe people are discussing a popular betting pool, Mayuri-sama. I will endeavour to keep them at a sufficient distance to not bother you.”

“Do that. Hmm… what are they betting on? Anything interesting?”

Nemu hesitated briefly before answering. “…Nothing unusual, Mayuri-sama. I believe it to involve the result of sparring sessions involving the Eleventh division.”

“Pah! Neanderthals. Yes, keep them away from me. If it’s not worth researching I don’t want to hear about it.”

“Of course, Mayuri-sama.”

\----------

“Ren-chan! Hi!”

“Oh, hey Yachiru. What’s up?” Abarai Renji turned towards the small pink-haired shinigami, and blinked as she thrust a wad of bills at his face.

“Bets!” she cheered, bouncing up and down. “You’ll keep track, right? Here’s the list!” And she shoved a piece of paper covered in scrawled crayon into his hand with the money and was off again.

“Thanks!” he called after her, squinting at the childish handwriting. “Now if I can just work out what she wrote… okay, fifty from Pachinko-head on Ken-chan, that’s Ikkaku betting on Zaraki… ten from Makimaki on Ken-chan. Who the hell is Makimaki? Uh… Aramaki, I think? Next is… one hundred, nice! From Nene-chan, betting that Grimmy will get into Icchy’s-- damn, I didn’t know Yachiru knew what that meant.” Blushing slightly, he cleared his throat and looked at the note again. “Nene-chan. Who’s Nene-chan?”

Frowning, Renji considered which female shinigami he knew had names that might be abbreviated as ‘Nene-chan’. “Isane? No, she’d bet on who would need the most bandages or something like that. Nanao… no, Yachiru calls her Book-chan usually. Um…

“…Nemu? Mayuri-the-freak’s lieutenant is betting on Grimmjow verbing Ichigo?!”

Shaking his head, Renji wrote the assorted bets down in his notebook, then turned back to the note. “Last ones. Fifty from Boob-chan -- well that one’s easy to work out. Matsumoto. So, fifty from Matsumoto on Icchy beating Ken-chan tonight, with accompanying rude drawing from Yachiru disagreeing, and another fifty on…” His eyes widened. “…Ken-chan getting into **Grimmy’s** hakama?!”

\----------

“Rangiku-san, how **could** you?!” Yumichika wailed.

“How could I not? She gave me twenty to one odds!” Matsumoto smirked. “Besides, you should be happy that I think your captain can top an Espada.”

“Eh? Oh, I’m not upset about **that** ,” the Eleventh squad’s fifth seat officer sniffed. “Of course Zaraki-taichou will top. He is the very embodiment of seme,” he beamed, flipping his hair.

“…Then what are you upset about?”

“You bet on Ichigo to win their fight!”

\----------

“Soutaichou.” Sasakibe’s voice was serious. “There is definitely something odd going on.”

“Hmmmm.” Yamamoto Genryuusai’s brow creased as yet another group of chattering shinigami hurriedly shushed each other as he approached.

“Shall I investigate?”

“Do so.”

\----------

“Ne, Nanao-chaaaan?”

“Yes, captain?”

Shunsui’s hat was tipped down over his eyes as usual, muffling his voice slightly. “Who are you betting on?”

“…I have too much work to do to waste time on such a ridiculous pastime,” she said frostily.

“Oh? That’s a shame… I was going to ask you to take my bet in,” he said mournfully. “I suppose I’ll have to get up…”

“Hand it over.”

“Really? But no, you’re busy, I should--”

“Taking care of errands for my captain **is** part of my job,” she sniffed, adding pointedly “However ridiculous and petty they might be.”

“Ah, Nanao-chaaaaan, you’re so good to me! Lovely, lovely Nanao-chan! Sweet Nanao-chaaaa--OW!”

Leaving Shunsui behind rubbing his book-shaped bruise, Nanao started towards the Sixth’s office, then paused. Seeming to come to a decision, she turned towards the Eighth’s barracks first.

“It’ll be more efficient to do them all at once,” she muttered under her breath, adjusting her glasses with a sigh. “Since everyone will ask me to deliver them anyway…”

Fifteen minutes later, halfway to the Sixth, Nanao was brought up short by a voice from behind.

“Ise-san! Good timing! Would you do me a favour, please?” Rukia called, waving.

“Ah, Kuchiki-san. Certainly.”

“Are you going towards the Sixth squad’s office?”

“That is in fact my destination,” Nanao sighed, showing her a thick wad of banknotes and slips of paper. “Everyone wants to bet before the fight tonight.”

“ **Perfect** ,” Rukia said, a strange glint appearing in her eye for a moment. “Would you add this one to your stack, please?”

“Eh? Of course, but can’t you just pass it on yourself?”

“Er, um, I have to get back to the living world before lunch hour is over,” Rukia said hurriedly. “I only came back to pick up a few things, and, well… that bet’s better coming from someone else. You’ll understand. Anyway, I have to go! Thank you so much!”

“…You’re welcome,” Nanao said faintly, watching her run off. Curious, she picked Rukia’s bet out from the middle of the stack where it had been pushed, unwrapped the note from around the cash and read it, one eyebrow lifting. “Ah. I **see**.”

\----------

“Abarai-san?”

“Yo, Ise-san! Business?”

“Entirely unofficial,” Nanao said dryly, producing a large wad of cash and numerous scraps of paper. “Have you a moment?”

“Sure! Captain’s out, paperwork’s… mostly done, and I’m at your disposal,” Renji grinned, pulling out his notebook.

“Thank you. First, Kyouraku-taichou would like to put fifty on each way.”

“Heh. Same as Ukitake-taichou,” Renji snorted.

“And probably for the same reasons,” Nanao sighed. “Enjouji-san would like to bet twenty on Zaraki-taichou…”

They worked their way through the stack of betting slips, including several relating to the ‘it’s foreplay’ rumours; Nanao read those bets out as unemotionally as the rest, and Renji managed not to blush too hard as he wrote them down.

“Is that the last one?” he asked finally, seeing only one more slip of paper in her hand.

“Almost.” She adjusted her glasses, looking at the slip with a strange half-smile. “This is an anonymous bet, to be paid out to the Shinigami Women’s Association if it wins.”

“Huh? That’s unusual,” Renji blinked. “All right, I guess…”

“The bet is fifty… on Abarai-fukutaichou getting into Kurosaki-san’s hakama first.”

He nodded absent-mindedly, starting to write. “Got it. Abar-- **WHAT?!** ”

Nanao blinked calmly. “Do you need me to repeat it?”

He could feel himself turning as red as his hair. “I-- but-- wha-- **who**?!”

“As I said,” she shrugged, turning the paper around so he could see for himself. The page was covered in cut-out letters, glued down to form something that looked like a clichéd ransom note. “The bet is anonymous, and since it was put into the middle of my stack I really can’t say who it’s from…”

“More like ‘won’t’,” he growled, grabbing it out of her hand and glaring at it. “Rukia gave this to you, didn’t she?”

“Oh?” She blinked again. “I believe Kuchiki-san is in the living world right now; it’s school hours, is it not?”

“--Oh. Yeah. That’s true.”

“And one more bet before I leave, if that’s all right?” Pulling her wallet out of the breast of her kimono, Nanao pulled out a note and held it out to him. “Twenty on Kurosaki-san, if you please.”

\----------

“Soutaichou. I have succeeded in gathering the information required.”

“Ah, good! So, Sasakibe… what’s going on?”

“It appears to be a betting pool…”

\----------

“Yo, Ikkaku! Who’re you betting on?”

“Iba-san! Do you even have to ask?” Ikkaku grinned sharp-toothed at the Seventh squad’s lieutenant. “My captain’s a shoo-in!”

“I hear it’s been ties all this week,” Iba grunted, sitting down next to him and swiping his bottle for a drink. “What makes you think he’ll win this time?”

“Pride.”

“Ha! How much you lost so far?”

“…A bit.” Ikkaku grabbed the bottle back with a little more force than absolutely necessary, glaring. “How much have **you** lost?”

“Me? I’ve been betting on ties,” Iba grinned, pulling a wad of cash thick enough to choke a Hollow out of his kimono.

“Then buy your own booze, asshole!”

\----------

“Captains’ meeting! Captains’ meeting!” The announcement rang through the inner offices of the Seireitai, accompanied by the clatter of mallets on wooden plaques. “Captains’ meeting! All captains and Abarai-fukutaichou are to report immediately!”

“…Hoshit,” Renji whispered, eyes huge.

\----------

The room was silent except for the faint chime of Zaraki’s bells as Renji knelt, eyes on the floor in front of him. All the captains were lined up facing each other, with Yamamoto-soutaichou seated at the opposite end of the room, hands folded over his staff… and glowering.

“It has come to my attention,” he growled slowly, voice dark, “that members of the Gotei 13 are attending and betting on arranged matches between Zaraki-taichou, the Substitute Shinigami Kurosaki Ichigo, and the Sixth Espada, Grimmjow Jaegerjaques. This has been taking place for nearly a week… and no-one saw fit to inform **me**!”

Mayuri perked up, looking interested, and then suddenly scowled. “‘Nothing unusual’, my foot! Oh, well, I suppose Nemu hadn’t heard the details… hmph.”

Kyouraku and Ukitake looked at each other, eyes wide, and then hurriedly burst into speech, talking over and around each other. “Ah, well, Yama-jii, it’s not so bad really! Nothing to get upset about!”

“After all, it means Zaraki-taichou is getting his daily exercise without destroying buildings here in Seireitai!”

“It’s good for squad morale and, um, emotional rapport?”

“A chance to observe the Espada’s fighting methods…”

“…and really, the fact that he’s willing to play along indicates that he’s not that bad…”

“…possibility of influencing him to our side, in fact…”

“…we could end up getting useful information on Aizen’s plans,” Kyouraku said enthusiastically. “I hear you can bribe him with sour apple candy!”

“He won’t throw a match for it, though,” Zaraki rumbled thoughtfully. “Or pocky.”

Several captains looked at him disbelievingly, and he shrugged. “What? Yachiru tried.”

“Ah, well, that makes more sense,” Komamura muttered.

“Enough!” Yamamoto-soutaichou’s staff hit the floor with a loud _*crack*_. “I didn’t call you all here to make excuses or to try to explain your squad members’ conduct! This meeting has only two objectives. First! I wish to make it clear that I am to be notified of any future incidents of this or similar nature immediately!”

Assorted variants on “Yes, sir,” were snapped, growled, or mumbled, according to the speakers’ individual natures (and the current states of their consciences).

“Second!” The elderly man’s eyes narrowed. “Abarai-fukutaichou!”

Renji swallowed hard. “…Yes, sir?”

“I believe that you are one of the principal instigators of this… betting ring?”

Sweat was running down one of his forehead tattoos. Renji blinked it away and shut his eyes, awaiting his doom. “Yes, sir.”

“Hrm. Good.” There was a faint rustling sound, and then a choking noise from Kuchiki-taichou’s direction. Disbelief?

“Fifty on a draw,” Yamamoto said crisply. “Dismissed!”


	3. Curiouser and Curiouser

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still a completely and totally INSANE Bleach silly fic, by Mel and Christy.  
> (Kenpachi + Ichigo + Grimmjow, AU, OOC, moderately crackfic)

## Curiouser and Curiouser

Ulquiorra was curious.

It wasn’t an emotion he felt often, and it certainly wasn’t one that he admitted to if he didn’t have to. Still, at the moment there wasn’t much to hold his attention, so he found it wandering to things he would normally ignore. Aizen wasn’t yet ready to move against Soul Society and had imposed restrictions on where his Espada could go and what they could do; few of the other Espada were worth spending any time with, and those that were had their own interests and pastimes; everything useful that could be done before the next phase in Aizen’s plan began had been taken care of weeks earlier; and Grimmjow was up to something.

Not that Ulquiorra cared. He just didn’t have anything else to **do** , unless he wanted to emulate Starrk and start sleeping for twenty-three hours a day.

“You look happy,” he murmured, stepping out of the shadows as Grimmjow sneaked along a hallway. The Sixth Espada was battered, bruised, missing half his coat and grinning like a loon, though that last bit of evidence that something was going on vanished into a scowl as he saw his ambusher.

“So?” Grimmjow challenged, straightening up but not quite managing to meet Ulquiorra’s eyes. “What about it?”

Ulquiorra blinked calmly, looking him up and down but otherwise not changing his expression at all. “Nothing,” he said eventually. “I was merely making an observation.”

Grimmjow pushed past him with a snarl and stalked off, spoiling the effect a bit when he glanced nervously back over his shoulder as he reached the corner.

 _…Definitely interesting,_ Ulquiorra decided, and strolled off in the other direction.

* * * * *

Two days later, Grimmjow tiptoed back into Las Noches from another surreptitious excursion, head swivelling from side to side as he checked for observers. Not seeing anyone to the sides or behind him, he relaxed slightly, blowing out a relieved breath as he faced forwards again.

Ulquiorra had a perfect view of the expression on his face as he reacted to finding the Fourth Espada staring at him from six inches away.

“ **Fuck**!” he spat, staggering backwards and flailing for balance. “Where the hell did you come from?!”

Ignoring the question, Ulquiorra tilted his head slightly to one side as he studied Grimmjow’s condition. His clothes were trashed again, and although his injuries were healing even as Ulquiorra watched, it was clear he’d been in a serious fight.

“You’ve been having fun again.”

Grimmjow bristled. “So what if I have? You wanna make something of it?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” Ulquiorra said calmly, one shoulder lifting in an almost imperceptible shrug. “Should I?”

“…No,” he growled, looking away.

“I’m bored. That’s all,” the shorter Espada told him, privately wondering why he was admitting it. “I don’t care what you’re doing… but Aizen might.”

“I’m not doing anything wrong,” Grimmjow muttered, still not looking at him.

“Perhaps,” Ulquiorra sighed, stepping out of his way. “You’re almost certainly doing something forbidden, though.”

Grimmjow laughed bitterly, stamping away. “Like anything interesting isn’t!”

* * * * *

The next time Grimmjow sneaked out, Ulquiorra followed him.

He’d thought he had no preconceived ideas about what the other Espada was up to, apart from the obvious -- he was fighting. It wasn’t until Grimmjow opened a Garganta and slipped through into the living world, and Ulquiorra felt surprised, that he realised he’d expected Grimmjow to be… what? Roaming around Hueco Mundo, challenging random Adjuchas-level Hollows? Picking fights with Vasto Lordes?

 _He’s been doing that already, on Aizen’s orders,_ Ulquiorra told himself, annoyed at his own assumptions. _Why would he repeat it for fun?_

He gave Grimmjow enough time to move out of casual sensing range before opening another Garganta and following him through, checking for the familiar feel of his ally’s energy while damping down his own.

It was like hearing the crowd at a sports stadium. Not just Grimmjow’s energy, but a blend of dozens -- scores! -- of energies, varying in strength from negligible to impressive… and he recognised several of them. Why was Grimmjow meeting up with a crowd of Shinigami?

There was only one way to find out, he decided, and went to see.

\----------

“Grimmy!” Yachiru squealed, waving enthusiastically from her perch on a rock. “I got more sour apple candy! I’ll give it to you after Icchy beats you, m’kay?”

Ichigo snickered, planting Zangetsu in the earth by his feet and leaning on it. “Hey, Grimmjow. I was gonna say it looked like Yachiru likes you more than me now, until that last sentence.”

Yachiru stuck her tongue out at him, swinging her large shopping bag around behind her back. “Nyeh! You never want candy when I offer, and Grimmy likes it, so a’course I get it for him and not you!”

“Hey, Pinky,” the Espada said, waving. “Kurosaki. How’s it goin’? And do I still get the candy when I kick his ass, squirt?”

“If I say no, will you let Icchy win?” she asked, pouting slightly when he cracked up laughing instead of answering her.

“Oi, Yachiru! I don’t need you bribing him to win, I can trash him just fine without help!”

“You’ve only won once, Icchy,” she pointed out.

“And I’ve only lost once, too! We usually tie!” Ichigo protested. “Not this time, though. You hear that, you laser blender sugar addict? You’re goin’ down!”

“Ooh, yes please!” Matsumoto cat-called from the sidelines, waving her sake bottle, and both Ichigo and Grimmjow broke off to yell at her.

“Pervert!” “Bitch!”

“Come on, boys, you know you want to. Besides, I keep losing on the fight bets because you all keep getting ties. I need to win the verbing bet! --Wait, hold on.” She broke off, looking confused. “Who did I bet on again?”

“Die broke, hag!”

Losing interest in the squabbling, Yachiru kicked her feet against the boulder and looked around, humming quietly as she waited for the fun part of the evening to begin.

Ichigo had insisted that one of the rules of the scheduled fights had to be ‘no breaking the town,’ so they took place some distance away from Karakura in a small, uninhabited valley sheltered by near-inaccessible mountains. (The local wildlife had largely moved out by day three.) Their audience, more than eighty Shinigami from all squads, were scattered around the southern edge of the natural arena, where various rocks and grassy slopes made excellent vantage points.

A glimmer of white caught Yachiru’s eye, and she frowned, trying to make it out. The northern edge of the valley was dotted with clumps of trees; shadows and tangled underbrush combined to make the ground underneath them pitch-black, but something pale had just moved behind a trunk.

Yachiru frowned again, undecided. If the fight was going to start soon she really didn’t want to miss anything, but--

“Ooh! No, no, I bet on Kenpachi verbing Grimmjow, that was it! So you can’t go down on--”

“Fuck off, you drunken bimbo!”

\--it looked like she had time to investigate.

\----------

“Are you an Espada, like Grimmy?”

Ulquiorra blinked and turned around. There was a small pink-haired Shinigami standing behind him, holding a white bag and looking up at him quizzically.

“…Grimmy?” he asked eventually, and the child smiled and pointed.

“Him!”

“Ah. Yes, Grimmjow and I are both Espada.”

“Oh. Okay. Are you here to fight Icchy too?”

 _Am I?_ he wondered, then shook his head. “No. I came to watch.”

“That’s good,” the small pink creature said cheerfully, hopping onto a branch so that she was nearer his eye level, “because it’s Grimmy’s turn to fight Icchy today. Tomorrow it’s Ken-chan and Grimmy fighting, so maybe Icchy’ll fight you if you ask nice, but otherwise you’ll have to ask if they can add you to the schedule.”

“…Schedule?” Ulquiorra blinked again. “I wasn’t aware there was a schedule for… this.” _Whatever this is._

“Mm-hm!” Pink hair bobbed as she nodded enthusiastically. “See, Grimmy kept coming to play with Icchy, because they’re friends, but Icchy was kind of annoyed because Grimmy never asked first, and Ken-chan was **really** annoyed because he was Icchy’s friend before Grimmy ever showed up, so Icchy said that Ken-chan and Grimmy could play without him and he was going to get some sleep,” she explained, apparently without taking a breath. “But Ken-chan and Grimmy both wanted to play with Icchy more than they wanted to play with each other, so they made a schedule. Icchy was mad at them for a while,” she added thoughtfully, “but they’re sticking to the rules, so he says it’s okay now.”

“Rules?” Ulquiorra echoed, puzzled. The explanation wasn’t helping.

“No breaking the town,” she elaborated, ticking points off on her fingers. “No actually killing each other. Ren-chan and Ru-chan have to take turns covering Icchy’s patrol, since they’re doing the betting pool, and if nobody’s won by about midnight the fight is a draw, ‘cause Icchy says if he doesn’t get enough sleep Glasses-boy is going to start using ambiguous grammar on him again and he won’t be awake enough to deny it in time. I don’t get that bit,” she confessed.

“Neither do I,” he said faintly.

“Oh, good!” She beamed (pinkly) up at him and went on. “Otherwise, the fight ends when someone’s unconscious, someone surrenders, or Droopy can’t take it any more and yells at them because he thinks they’re gonna break the no-actually-killing-each-other rule.” She pointed at one of the spectators, a small, thin Shinigami with limp black hair and sad eyes, sitting next to an immense medical kit.

“I see,” said Ulquiorra, who didn’t actually, but suspected that this small pink enthusiast would keep ‘explaining’ if he didn’t pretend to understand. “And who is that?” he went on, pointing at an impressively-endowed female Shinigami who seemed to be arguing with Kurosaki and Grimmjow.

“Oh, that’s Boob-chan. She’s Tenth Squad’s vice-captain.”

He stared at her incredulously. “That can **not** be her name.”

“Uh. Umm. Ran…” she mused, sucking thoughtfully on one finger. “Uhmmm. Ran… giku? Everyone knows who I mean when I call her Boob-chan, anyway!”

Ulquiorra had to admit that was plausible.

“She thinks Ken-chan should get in Grimmy’s hakama,” the child said matter-of-factly.

“Get your sick fantasy jollies somewhere else!” Kurosaki’s voice drifted across the valley to them.

“Fuck. How am I supposed to fight with that mental image in my head?” Grimmjow complained.

“Oh, suck it up, princess. I’ve had to deal with that sort of thing the whole time! You knew there was a betting pool, didn’t you pay any attention to what they were betting **on**?”

“You mentioned this ‘betting pool’ before,” Ulquiorra noted, refusing to take any notice of the ‘hakama’ comment. “People -- Shinigami -- are betting on these fights? And some bet on Grimmjow to win?”

“Yup!”

“Why?”

The girl looked at him blankly. “Because it’s fun, a’course!”

“We are your enemies,” he insisted.

“Not right now, you aren’t,” she shrugged.

“You don’t know that.” _Why am I arguing with her?!_ “If I wished to, I could kill you here and now. Doesn’t that concern you?”

“You can try it, if you wanna,” she grinned, looking sideways at him. There was no fear in her eyes, only gleeful anticipation, and pink reiatsu was gathering around her.

Somehow, her reaction made it all fall into place. Ulquiorra smiled faintly and looked away, turning towards where Grimmjow and Kurosaki were finally facing off against each other. “I begin to see why Grimmjow gets along with you,” he murmured, and the girl giggled.

“It’s ‘cause he’s fun!” she chirped, and held her bag out towards him. “I’m Yachiru. Want some candy?”

* * * * *

The next day, Grimmjow flinched and scowled when Ulquiorra strolled out of the shadows to join him as he sneaked away from Las Noches. “Now what do you want?”

“Yachiru said she’d bring me more chocolate,” the shorter Espada shrugged, “and I’m curious to meet this ‘Ken-chan’ she likes so much.”

“Ya-- Ken--” Grimmjow sputtered. “Wha-- you followed me?!”

Ulquiorra blinked at him, not answering, and let one corner of his mouth turn up in the faintest possible smirk.

“…Fine,” Grimmjow huffed eventually, turning away to hide his own grin. “No stealing my sour apple candy, though, okay?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

\----------

“Hi Grimmy!” Yachiru called, bouncing on her toes. “Hi Sadface! Bouncy’s here today too!”

Grimmjow snickered under his breath, looking sideways at Ulquiorra. “Sadface?” he whispered. “At least she calls me something based on my actual name!”

“It was better than the other three ideas she had,” Ulquiorra replied with a sigh, nodding at Yachiru. There was a human girl with amber hair (and large breasts, explaining her nickname) standing next to the tiny Shinigami; she looked surprised, but bowed politely as the two Arrancar approached.

“Hey Pinky, Inoue,” Grimmjow greeted them, looking around. The watching Shinigami were whispering to each other, looing at Ulquiorra with frank interest, but whoever he was searching for didn’t seem to be there. “Where’s Zaraki?”

“He got stuck with paperwork again, but he says he’ll be here real soon,” Yachiru assured him, and he snorted.

“Yeah, he hasn’t got you guiding him, so that might even be true-- OW!”

Ignoring the scuffle as Yachiru apparently tried to gnaw Grimmjow’s kneecap off, Ulquiorra turned to ‘Bouncy’ and bowed fractionally. “Ulquiorra Cifer,” he said quietly.

“I’m Inoue Orihime,” she introduced herself, bowing again. “Pleased to meet you, Ulquiorra-san -- oh, I’m sorry, is your name the same way around as Jaegerjaques-kun’s? Should that be Cifer-san?”

“As you please,” he shrugged. “Have you finished biting Grimmjow, Minigami?”

“Huh?” The pair paused and stared at him, frozen in mid-wrestle. “What did you call me?”

“Minigami. Would you prefer a different--” He stopped, eyeing them as they both howled with laughter, and turned back to the human. “It seemed only fair, given her determination to call me anything but my name,” he explained.

“Yachiru-chan is like that,” she agreed cheerfully.

“Ken-chan!” Yachiru squealed, barrelling across the clearing to attach herself to a tall, spiky-haired man with an eye patch. Ulquiorra tensed as a heavy, ominously predatory reiatsu rolled over him.

“…‘Ken-chan’ is a captain,” he observed flatly. Grimmjow didn’t seem to hear him, rolling to his feet and grinning in the newcomer’s direction, but Inoue waved her hands frantically in what was probably meant to be a reassuring gesture.

“It’s okay, honestly! Zaraki-san won’t attack you-- well, he probably will **challenge** you, he really likes fighting strong opponents, but there’s sort of a truce at the fights, so if you don’t want to spar he’ll leave you alone,” she babbled. “--Well, no, he’ll probably keep nagging you. He **really** likes fighting. But he won’t attack you,” she repeated earnestly, “and if you do end up fighting him he won’t try to kill you. There are rules. Did Yachiru-chan tell you about the rules? And Yamada-kun and I will heal anyone who gets really hurt!”

“Yo,” Zaraki drawled, stalking towards them with Yachiru beaming from his shoulder. “Who’s this?”

“Ulquiorra,” Grimmjow said laconically, jerking one thumb towards his ally. “Fourth Espada. I think he’s just here for the chocolate, though. About time you got here!”

“I got Pocky for Sadface too,” Yachiru announced happily. “Ken-chan, Ken-chan, he called me Minigami! Isn’t that funny?”

“Hilarious,” he growled, grinning sharply at Ulquiorra. “You here to fight? I’ll take you both on if you want.”

Ulquiorra’s quiet, wary “Not today” was almost inaudible under Grimmjow’s objection. “No way! You wanna fight him, you add him to the schedule somewhere, don’t try sticking him in **my** slot!”

Zaraki was opening his mouth to reply when a slightly drunken, wistful voice made itself heard. “Oh, there are so many things I could say about that last sentence, I can’t choose… Ne, Rukia-chan, if Zaraki-taichou **does** take them both on at once, do I still win the bet? I mean, nobody knew the second one was going to show up!”

Grimmjow choked, and Zaraki rolled his one visible eye. “Just ignore her,” he suggested. “I’ve tried threatening her to shut her up before, it doesn’t work for long and her captain gets all pissy at you.”

Events proceeded in what seemed to be the normal fashion; after some more banter and a yelled argument with the voluptuous ‘Boob-chan’, Ulquiorra found himself standing on the sidelines between Inoue and the Minigami, watching Grimmjow and the Shinigami captain cheerfully attempt to disembowel each other. He supposed it could be passed off as a ruse to study Shinigami fighting styles if Aizen or Tousen ever found out what was going on, but… this Shinigami didn’t seem to **have** a style.

“Does he ever try to dodge?” he wondered aloud, and Inoue shook her head.

“Almost never. Zaraki-san says it’s no fun.”

“Ken-chan’s **strong**!” Yachiru chortled, watching with a happy smile. “He doesn’t need to dodge, ‘cause hardly anybody’s good enough to hurt him.”

“Grimmjow seems to be doing some damage,” Ulquiorra noted blandly.

“That’s why Ken-chan’s happy. He gets to play with real fighters all the time now,” she shrugged. “He used to be **really** bored.”

Ulquiorra was beginning to see that a bored Zaraki Kenpachi could be a bad thing.

\----------

“I shoulda asked Inoue to heal me,” Grimmjow muttered as they approached Las Noches.

“Why?” Ulquiorra asked, shifting the peppermint he was sucking into his cheek to speak more clearly. “Your injuries are all minor; they’ll heal themselves soon enough.”

“Yeah, but they still **show** , so I’ve gotta sneak in.”

The other Espada paused, looking Grimmjow up and down. He was missing his coat and half of one hakama leg, and the remains were covered in cuts, rips, grass stains, blood stains, mud… “Healed or not, it’ll still be obvious you’ve been in a fight,” he said dryly.

“Whaddaya talking about? --Oh, that’s right, y’haven’t seen Inoue work yet.” Grimmjow shook his head. “She doesn’t just heal injuries; she puts everything back the way it was, clothes and all.”

“Really?” Ulquiorra blinked. _That’s… interesting, to say the least…_

“Better go in the back way if you’re trying not to get caught out,” a deep, lazy voice said from behind a nearby rock. “Tousen’s on the prowl.”

“Fuck,” Grimmjow snarled, one hand coming up to cover his eyes. “Why don’t we just invite everybody to come see what we’re doing, instead? Get it over with in one go…”

Ulquiorra strolled around the rock and looked down at Starrk, stretched out comfortably with his hands behind his head and his eyes closed. Lilynette was curled up with her head resting on his stomach, apparently asleep.

“Why are you out here?”

“I told you,” Starrk yawned, “Tousen’s on a rampage. He’s rousting everybody for whatever real or imaginary sins he can come up with, and I’d rather have a little peace and quiet.”

“We’re gonna have to come up with an explanation for my gear, then, just in case,” Grimmjow muttered, joining them. “I could rough you up a bit and say we were sparring, maybe?”

Starrk opened his eyes and blinked sleepily at them, then raised his eyebrows. “That ought to work,” he agreed, “so long as you get rid of the shopping bags too.”

As one, Grimmjow and Ulquiorra glanced down at the white plastic bags they were both carrying, emblazoned with a bright green “URAHARA SHOUTEN” logo.

“…That might be wise,” Ulquiorra admitted. “Would you like some Pocky?”

* * * * *

“Kyouraku-taichou,” Renji said, surprised. “I wasn’t expecting-- um--”

“It’s no fun betting if I don’t get to watch every so often,” the captain of the Eighth Squad said with his usual slow smile. “Nanao-chan is looking after the squad.”

 _Taking care of all the paperwork you just skipped out on, you mean,_ Renji thought, and bowed. “It’s a pleasure to see you, sir; I’m glad you were able to find the time.”

“So am I!” Kyouraku grinned. “It’s Grimmjow’s turn tonight, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I wonder if he’ll bring that other Espada you reported again,” he mused.

 _Aha. So you do have a reason other than slacking off to turn up…_ Renji grimaced slightly. “Ulquiorra? He might, I guess. The guy’s kinda creepy,” he added, lowering his voice. “Grimmjow’s easy to understand, kind of like Zaraki-taichou, you know? But I’ve got no idea what’s going on in Sadface’s head.”

Kyouraku blinked. “Sadface?”

“Ah, sorry, sir! That’s what Ya-- uh, Kusajishi-fukutaichou calls Ulquiorra. She--”

“Grimmy! Sadface! Who’re your friends?” Yachiru squealed nearby.

“--seems to like him,” Renji finished, sighing.

A bright pink blur flash-stepped across the clearing, and Yachiru reappeared balanced on Grimmjow’s shoulder. “Hi!” she chirped, waving at two figures that were hanging back a little. “I’m Yachiru. What kind of candy do you like? Sandal-hat’s here today, and he brought lots!”

“That stuff Ulquiorra had the other day wasn’t bad,” the taller of the two answered, shrugging. “What was it called? Packy?”

“Pocky,” Ulquiorra corrected him, nodded to Yachiru, and walked off in what seemed to be a random direction… until he reached Inoue Orihime, who greeted him with a happy smile and passed him a bento box.

“This is getting interesting,” Kyouraku murmured, and drifted towards the new arrivals. Grimmjow was dangling Yachiru upside-down by one ankle, and as the Captain approached she bit him on the elbow.

“Welcome!” he said cheerfully, ignoring the increasingly loud squabble. “Would you like a drink?”

The tall, brown-haired man looked interested, but his short green-haired (and skimpily dressed) female companion scoffed. “Nah, I’d rather get some more of that Pocky stuff. Who’s this Sandal-hat guy the pink kid mentioned?”

“That would be Urahara-kun,” Kyouraku told her, turning around to scan the crowd. “Now, where… ah! There he is. The one with the, um, hat. And sandals.”

“Thanks,” she nodded, then turned and kicked the taller Arrancar in the ankle. “Don’t get in trouble!” she ordered, and stalked off.

“Kyouraku Shunsui,” he introduced himself, sitting down and offering the tall man one of his cups. “Captain of the Eighth.”

“…Coyote Starrk,” the Espada answered, accepting the cup and sitting next to him. “First Espada. That was Lilynette,” he added, smiling wryly.

“First?” Kyouraku asked, pausing for a moment as he filled Starrk’s cup.

“Mm-hm.”

“…Well.” He filled his own cup and took a sip, savouring the taste. “This **is** getting interesting.”

Starrk’s smile widened and he leaned back against the nearest rock. “Isn’t it just?”


	4. Squad Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because the Gotei 13 are having too much fun watching these bouts. ;) Still a completely and totally INSANE Bleach silly fic, by Mel and Christy.  
> (Kenpachi + Ichigo + Grimmjow, AU, OOC, language, moderately crackfic)

## Squad Party

“Soutaichou! I am pleased to report that the screen is working!”

“Hrmmmm. Thank you, Sasakibe.”

“It was nothing, Soutaichou. Apparently Kurotsuchi-taichou had already set up an, er, observation system; we only had to tune into his feed.”

Yamamoto looked surprised. “Kurotsuchi helped set this up?”

His lieutenant shook his head. “No, sir. I asked Ne- uh- Kurotsuchi-fukutaichou. She did not believe it was something her captain needed to be, ah, bothered with.”

“Wise,” Yamamoto muttered, settling down to watch. “Whose turn is it?”

“I believe it is Kurosaki Ichigo and the Sixth Espada tonight, sir.”

Yamamoto grunted acknowledgement, and there was silence for a few moments. Then:

“…You placed my bet?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.”

* * * * *

“Yo, Sandal-hat!”

Lilynette sauntered over to the Urahara Shouten contingent, ignoring the sideways glances the watching Shinigami were shooting at her. After all, she and Starrk had been turning up for a week now; if they weren’t used to it, screw ’em.

“Ah, Lily-chan!” Urahara caroled, turning to face her and waving his ever-present fan. “What can I get you today? More pocky? Or did you feel like branching out and trying something new?”

About to answer, Lilynette stopped, staring at his chest. “…What the heck is **that**?!”

“That? Oh, this!” Grinning, he spread his arms, revealing the printed t-shirt underneath his green haori. “It’s part of our new line! We’ve got t-shirts, ball caps, fans, banners, balloons -- though those didn’t turn out so well, Yachiru-chan took all the pink ones and popped the rest -- what would you like?”

Jinta scowled at her from beneath the brim of his ‘Zaraki Rules’ cap. Beside him, a female Shinigami sneaked away after pressing several notes into Ururu’s hands, clutching her ‘Grimmjow Is Hot’ shirt furtively to her bosom.

Lilynette eyed Urahara’s shirt, looking faintly queasy. Lurid orange text proclaimed ‘Ichi = #1’. “The colour doesn’t really go with the rest of your gear,” she pointed out.

“I suppose not, but it stands out, ne?” he grinned, flourishing his fan again. “Come along now, are you sure you don’t want one? We have ‘Grimmjow Rocks’, that one’s selling fast! Well… three. Which isn’t bad, considering my client base. And Orihime-chan had enough room for an extra-large print of ‘Go Zaraki-san!’. Or we can custom-print anything you want,” he added temptingly. “Free Pocky with every banner! Rangiku-san and Rukia-chan bought one together, see?”

* * * * *

“Sasakibe?”

“Yes, Soutaichou?”

“What does ‘Somebody Verb Someone Already’ mean, do you think?”

“…I believe it to be an in-joke, sir.”

“Hrrrm. …And that shirt?”

“Which one, sir?”

“ ‘Grimmjow Rocks’. Who is that wearing it?”

“Ah… I believe that is Isane-fukutaichou, from Fourth squad,” Sasakibe said, sweating lightly.

“Hrrrrrmmmmmmm.”

There was a long, tense pause.

“If nothing else,” Yamamoto said eventually, “some of our less confident Shinigami seem to be coming out of their shells. Good for morale, these bouts, I suppose.”

“Yes, sir,” Sasakibe agreed, relieved that the old man wasn’t furious, “though I believe Yamada Hanatarou is consuming anti-ulcer medication at a terrifying rate…”

“Unfortunate. Make a note, Sasakibe.”

“Yes sir?”

“Remember to speak to Unohana-taichou about rotating the healing support personnel for the bouts.”

“Yes, sir.”

* * * * *

“Kurosaki-kun!” Orihime bounced up and down, waving. Next to her, Ulquiorra ignored his surroundings, examining the contents of his bentou box.

Ichigo came to a halt, staring at her T-shirt. “…What,” he said flatly.

“Um.”

“You’re cheering for **Zaraki**?!”

“Well… today, yes,” she admitted, giggling nervously.

“Inoue,” he said in a strained voice, rubbing his forehead with one hand, “Zaraki isn’t even here today.”

“That’s why I’m cheering for him!” she said.

“… **What**?!”

“Well, I like all of you!” she explained, sounding as if she thought this was perfectly reasonable. “You’ve been my friend for years and years, and Zaraki-san is really nice and helped me when we were trying to rescue Kuchiki-san, and Jaegerjaques-kun is… um… interesting? So I cheer for Zaraki-san when he’s not fighting, and Jaegerjaques-kun when he’s not fighting, and you on Sundays!”

“That… makes sense, in a weird, Inoue sort of way,” he admitted, sighing.

“There is a certain logic to it,” Ulquiorra pointed out, not looking up from his lunch. He poked something curiously with his chopsticks, then took a bite.

“I didn’t know Hollows ate ordinary food,” Ichigo said, desperate to change the subject before he started thinking like Orihime.

Ulquiorra chewed thoughtfully for a while, then swallowed. “We don’t have to,” he said, poking at a purple thing in the next compartment. “It’s interesting.”

“Food in general, or Inoue’s cooking?” Ichigo asked before he could stop himself.

“Yes,” Ulquiorra said calmly, and tried the purple thing. Orihime beamed happily.

“Yo! Ichigo!” Grimmjow yelled from across the field. “Let’s get this show on the road!” Matsumoto and Rukia cheered, waving sake bottles from underneath their banner.

\----------

“You seen that banner?” Grimmjow growled under his breath as Ichigo walked up.

“First thing we do, we ‘accidentally’ destroy, it, okay?”

“Fine by me. You gonna Getsuga, or do I get to Cero it?”

“Let’s go for both. They’re fast enough to get out of the way, even drunk,” Ichigo muttered, grinning nastily.

“That big-chested bitch is creepier than Ichimaru when she’s drunk. She **leers** at me. Ichimaru doesn’t **leer** at me-- well, not that way at least!” Grimmjow complained.

“That’s not what worries me,” Ichigo snorted. “She’s corrupting Rukia. Rukia lives in my closet half the time, for God’s sake! I’ve never seen her drunk, and I’m pretty sure I don’t want to!”

“I feel for ya, man,” Grimmjow said seriously, patting him sympathetically on the shoulder.

“Wooooooooo~! Go for it, Grimmy!” floated across the battlefield in a slightly drunken voice.

“Nooooooo!” Matsumoto complained. “’s gotta be Zaraki-taichou!”

“If we angle it right, we can get the banner **and** all those pink balloons that Minigami’s nearly floating off with,” Grimmjow pointed out, and Ichigo nodded grimly.

\----------

Kyouraku sipped calmly at his sake, watching the crowd scatter as two perfectly-timed attacks ripped through a large banner, sending Yachiru spinning through the air as half of her balloons vaporized.

“We should probably move,” Starrk said beside him, sounding faintly amused.

“Oh, I think we’re fine,” Kyouraku shrugged, topping up his cup. “They were very precisely aimed.”

“Of course they were,” Starrk agreed. “They took out the banner and the balloons, with only a little collateral damage--”

“Almost none,” Kyouraku corrected him. “I’m fairly sure most of those bottles were already empty.”

“--which means they’re going to take out their next target very precisely, too.”

Kyouraku blinked. “Next target?”

Starrk pointed wordlessly at the Urahara Shouten t-shirt printing stand, barely ten feet away. Lilynette was perfectly audible as she argued with Urahara that ‘Starrk Would Beat All Of You If He Would Just Get Off His Lazy Ass’ would **so** fit on a t-shirt.

“…There’s a nice rock over there,” Kyouraku said, hastily gathering up his haori. “ **Way** over there.”

* * * * *

“Hmmmmm. This seems to be excellent training for our squad members in how to anticipate and evade ranged attacks, too.”

“Indeed, Soutaichou.”

“Popcorn, Sasakibe?”

“Thank you, sir.”


	5. Getting Serious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuing the completely and totally INSANE Bleach silly fic, by Mel and Christy. Now with actual plot!  
> (Kenpachi + Ichigo + Grimmjow, Ulquiorra + Orihime, AU, OOC, language, moderately crackfic)

“How long have we been running these bouts?” Renji asked abruptly, leaning against a tree and scratching the base of his messy red ponytail.

“Um.” Rukia blinked. “Ah… well, Ulquiorra started turning up a bit over three weeks ago… Lilynette and Starrk have been showing up nearly as long… Grimmjow and Zaraki-taichou had been playing for a month before the others turned up… so, almost two months? Why?”

“Seems a lot longer, is all.” He grinned a little sheepishly. “I’m not looking forward to having to fight the Espada once Aizen gets his act together, you know, and not just because they’re tough. I’ve gotten to like them!”

“What, even Grimmjow?”

“Yeah, even him. Guy’s a dick, but he’s a fun dick, y’know?”

“Fair enough.” She smiled, but it faded into a thoughtful expression as she looked down into the ravaged valley that was the arena for the nightly fights. “I don’t think they really want to fight us, either. Grimmjow’s the only one who even wants to spar! He’d happily play with Ichigo and Zaraki-taichou for the rest of his life, but if they fought seriously it would have to end.”

“Still gonna have to do it,” he sighed.

“True.” Rukia scowled at him. “And speaking of things that have to be done, were you planning to patrol any time soon? It’s your turn to watch Karakura, you know!”

“All right, all right, I’m going! Sheesh!”

As Renji left, the shiver of an opening Garganta reverberated from nearby, and Rukia’s cellphone pinged as it detected several high-level Hollows passing through into the living world. Flicking it open, she checked quickly to make sure it was the ones expected, then shut off the alarm. _Expected Hollows,_ she thought wryly, starting to walk down towards the other Shinigami who had gathered to watch. _Invited Hollows. **Friendly** Hollows. It’s ridiculous… but somehow, all sorts of ridiculous things have turned out to be reasonable lately._

_Since I met Ichigo, in fact. Ha._

\- - - - -

“Are you coming to watch Zaraki-san and Kurosaki-kun tomorrow?” Orihime asked, sitting next to Ulquiorra as they both watched Grimmjow swat Ichigo through one of the few trees still standing on the valley floor. “I’ve got spring onions and honey and pickled plums and bean jam and a bunch of other things, so I was thinking of making bentou boxes for Jaegerjaques-kun and Starrk-san too. Lilynette-chan already said she doesn’t want any. Ever,” she added, pouting slightly. “It can’t be healthy for her to just eat sweets all the time…”

_She eats plenty of Hollows when we’re in Hueco Mundo,_ Ulquiorra thought, but didn’t say. “We’re… probably not coming tomorrow, no,” he said slowly, not looking at her.

“Oh. That’s a shame. Oh well, day after tomorrow then!” she said, brightening. “Everything will keep that long.”

“Mmm.” The green thing in the last compartment of his lunchbox wobbled at him, and he poked it experimentally with his chopsticks. “Maybe not then either.”

She turned to stare at him, eyes wide. Behind her, Grimmjow cartwheeled into a rock, swearing. “But that’s Jaegerjaques-kun’s turn!”

He realised he was frowning slightly, and hastily smoothed his face into its usual bland non-expression. “I know.”

“Is something wrong?”

“Not yet.” _But there might be soon. Szayel was snooping around when we left today… and he’s not one to be sidetracked by sharing some Pocky and inviting him to come along. If he finds out anything concrete about what we’re up to, Aizen will know about it within the hour._

“But something might be wrong soon? Is there anything we could do to help? After all,” she said earnestly, clasping her hands together in front of her bosom, “we’re all friends now! Um, sort of, but--”

“Duck.”

“Eh?”

Still holding the bentou in his left hand, Ulquiorra reached across and grabbed the back of Orihime’s head, shoving her down until her nose brushed the short grass. She squeaked as a bolt of brilliant red energy blazed past inches above her bent back, scattering the watching Shinigami who were seated further up the slope.

“Damnit Grimmjow!” Ichigo yelled, shaking his fist. “Watch where you’re firing that thing! You nearly hit Inoue!”

“Well I didn’t, did I?”

“No thanks to your aim!”

“C’mon, calm down. Ulquiorra won’t let her get hit. Besides, you nearly Getsuga-ed Lilynette last time!”

“Yeah, and I apologised, didn’t I? Asshole!”

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry, ’Hime. You okay?”

“I’m fine!” Orihime called hastily, sneezing and rubbing her nose where the grass had tickled her. “Really! Nothing at all hurt. Sorry I got in the way, Jaegerjaques-kun!”

“Don’t apologise to him! Sheesh!”

“Oh! Sorry, Kurosaki-kun!”

“And don’t-- aw, forget it.” Ichigo rolled his eyes and turned back to the fight, glancing back for a second to toss “Thanks, Ulquiorra,” over his shoulder. “Now aim **that** way, shithead!”

“Thank you, Cifer-kun,” Orihime said, settling back into her previous position and smiling at him.

He shrugged dismissively and poked the wobbly green thing again. “What’s this?”

“Jalapeno jelly!” she said enthusiastically, thankfully distracted from her previous line of thought. “It’s really yummy on sardines, but I ran out.”

“Huh.” He popped it in his mouth, squished it with his tongue, and sat in considering silence for a few breaths before delivering his opinion. “It’s not bad. I like food that bites back.”

\- - - - -

“Another, Starrk-san?”

“Thank you.” Bottle clinked on cup, and Starrk sipped with a smile on his face, releasing his breath in a slight sigh as he put the cup down. “Shunsui will be upset with us if we drink the whole bottle without waiting for him,” he noted, not sounding at all worried.

“He’ll bring at least two more bottles,” Ukitake pointed out cheerfully, topping up their cups again, “and drink one and a half of them himself. If he’s going to be saddened by the loss of this one, well, all I can say is that he should have gotten here sooner.”

“Excellent reasoning!” Starrk saluted the captain with his cup and sipped again. “What’s kept him, d’you know?”

“Ah. Heh. I believe his lieutenant has worked out how he was slipping out of the compound, and was lying in wait with the last two weeks’ worth of paperwork to be signed. That young woman has a, shall we say, forceful personality.”

The Espada snickered behind his drink, shielding it with his other hand as a cloud of rock shards and dust billowed past. “She’d need it, dealing with him. I-- hmm.”

“Yes?” Ukitake looked up from brushing his haori clean, and blinked as Starrk abruptly thrust his cup in the captain’s direction. He was staring towards a low hillock crowned with dense scrub and trees, a small bobble in the valley’s side.

“Hold this.” And with a flicker, Starrk was gone. Ukitake blinked again, then philosophically topped up both cups once more.

Starrk returned barely a minute later, leaving after-images across the battlefield as he flicked back into place beside his drinking partner. Ichigo yelped in surprise, tried to dodge the insubstantial image that had just appeared in his path, and tripped, accidentally taking out Grimmjow in a tangle of flailing limbs and swords. Off to one side, Matsumoto cheered.

“Welcome back,” Ukitake said amiably, handing the cup back. Starrk managed a distracted half-smile as he accepted it, but it faded quickly as he glanced back at the hillock. “Is something wrong?”

“…No,” the Espada said after an uncertain pause. “It was nothing. I thought I saw something, is all.” He sipped, frowning. “Something white.”

* * * * *

“Not going anywhere today?”

Ulquiorra didn't react to the smug voice calling out to him, pacing along one of Las Noches’ corridors without altering his stride. Szayelaporro Granz swung out of the niche he’d been standing in and followed, pink hair bobbing as he lengthened his steps to keep up.

“Ignoring me now? That’s not a good idea. Why, if you don’t talk to me, I just might go and talk to Ichimaru or Tousen about the way you and Grimmjow keep wandering off--”

“I don’t need to explain myself to trash,” Ulquiorra said calmly, still not turning to look at the Eighth Espada. “If you think we’re doing something reportable, go ahead; report us.”

Szayel’s eyes narrowed in anger, and he laughed unconvincingly. “I just might,” he repeated. “I just might do that. I’m sure they’d be delighted to know that you two are up to something surreptitious, and now you’re drawing in Starrk as well.”

“I’m sure they’d be delighted with you for wasting their time.”

Frustrated at the lack of response to his barbs, Szayel stopped walking and scowled at the other Espada’s receding back. “I suppose we’ll find out, won’t we?” he snapped, and began to turn away.

“Szayel.” Ulquiorra paused, turning his head slightly to glance back over his shoulder. “If I find any more of your bugs in my quarters or on my person, I’ll kill you.”

Paling slightly, Szayel hurried away.

Ulquiorra watched him for a few more seconds, then continued onwards. _I must have found all the bugs,_ he reasoned, thinking quickly behind his normal impassive expression. _If he actually knew anything, he wouldn’t be fishing for information that way; he’d be using it. Since I didn’t rise to his bait, he’s not sure whether or not there’s anything useful to find out… and since he hasn’t got anything concrete to report, he probably won’t say anything._

_Then again, he might._

At the next intersection he turned left instead of right, heading towards Grimmjow’s and Starrk’s rooms. _We need to talk… and I’ll have to ‘de-flea’ Grimmjow first._

\- - - - -

“You sure you got them all?” Grimmjow asked anxiously, twisting around to eye his own back and scratching the side of his neck with one hand. “Those things are creepy as hell!”

Ulquiorra ignored his question, turning instead to Starrk. “You said you saw something white near the last fight. Another Espada?”

“Possibly,” Starrk shrugged, leaning against a large rock and crossing his arms. “I couldn’t feel any remaining traces of reiatsu in the area, though.”

“Which means nothing,” Ulquiorra concluded. “Most of us can shield ourselves effectively.”

“Think it was Szayel?” Grimmjow suggested.

“No. If he was there, he would already know enough to take to Aizen.”

Starrk yawned hugely. “So it wasn’t him, but he’s still suspicious.”

“And whoever was watching the fight -- if someone **was** watching, and it **was** one of the Espada -- has more than enough information to get us in a lot of trouble,” Ulquiorra finished.

“Get us dead, you mean,” Grimmjow muttered, scratching his armpit.

Starrk laughed. “This is new?”

They fell silent for a moment, then Ulquiorra shook his head and frowned slightly. “We can’t choose a path of action until we know what accusations we have to defend ourselves against. Everything depends on how Aizen and the others react to whatever they’re told about us. We need to decide on a few basic responses -- deny wrongdoing, claim we were researching our enemies, perhaps? -- and then improvise the details according to what situation we’re presented with.” He thought for a moment longer, then nodded. “That will do. You--” He looked at Grimmjow. “--keep your mouth shut and say as little as possible. And stop scratching!”

Grimmjow yanked his hand away from his groin and crossed his arms, scowling. “We could just run.”

“Think we’d get far?” Starrk asked. His voice was mild, but his expression was dark. “The time to run away from Aizen was before he ever knew about us.”

“It’d be better than hanging around here waiting for him to come down on our necks!”

Ulquiorra raised one hand to gesture the other two to silence. “We’re going to have to act eventually, Grimmjow, you’re right--”

“Ha!”

“--but Starrk is also correct. If we just run, we will get nowhere.”

“Hmph.” Grimmjow looked sulky, but thoughtful. One hand crept up to scratch the back of his head. “So whadda we got to do if we wanna run and make it **work**?”

“We need allies.” Ulquiorra paused for a moment, remembering brown eyes staring earnestly into his own. “We… already have some, I think, but… we need more. And we need to either distract Aizen or hamstring him in some way as we leave.”

Starrk cocked his head to one side. “Yammy follows you…” He trailed off as Ulquiorra waved his hand dismissively.

“Up to a point. He finds it convenient to do as I say when he can’t think of anything better to do, that’s all. The attachment wouldn’t last beyond the first time I asked him to do something that annoyed him.”

“Not Barragan,” Grimmjow put in, snorting. “Not Nnoitra, either. They’re both dicks.”

“…Leaving aside whether that is a reason to exclude them in and of itself,” Ulquiorra said carefully, “they’re both also loyal to Aizen.”

Starrk nodded, then grimaced slightly. “I don’t think Aarionero’s particularly loyal.”

“He’s an even worse dick than Nnoitra, though,” Grimmjow objected.

“Completely untrustworthy,” Ulquiorra told Starrk, ignoring Grimmjow.

“We’re running out of options, then.”

“Zommari’s not a dick,” Grimmjow suggested. “He doesn’t talk much, though. Dunno what he thinks about anything, really.”

“Zommari is an unknown quantity,” Ulquiorra said. “I was thinking about Harribel, and perhaps some of the Privaron Espada and Numeros.”

Grimmjow blinked, then nodded. “Yeah, Harribel’s not a--”

“Which of the Privaron were you thinking of?” Starrk asked, talking over him. “And will it do any good? They were demoted because they’re weaker than the rest of us, after all.”

“Gantenbainne, for one,” Ulquiorra shrugged. “I wasn’t planning on having them join in a direct confrontation, but they could be useful in other ways. As you just pointed out, the first thing any Espada thinks when they’re brought up is ‘weak’; nobody regards them as a threat.”

“Maybe because they’re not?” Grimmjow said in a sarcastic voice.

“Szayel is physically weaker than you. Do you think he’s not a threat?”

“He’s got those creepy bug-things! And he’s one sneaky bastard, nearly as bad as Ichimaru,” Grimmjow objected.

One of Ulquiorra’s eyebrows lifted a tiny fraction. “So you agree that strength isn’t the only measure of threat?”

“Well duh, of course not.”

“The same applies to the Privaron, then.”

“That’s different!”

“How?”

“Uh-- well-- because-- um-- I--”

“Go back to scratching yourself.”

“Hey!”

* * * * *

“Did he say why?” Renji asked, shoving his sunglasses up to the top of his head as he looked at Orihime.

“No, not really.” She shook her head, looking worried. “Just that there wasn’t anything wrong **yet**. Then Jaegerjaques-kun nearly Cero-ed me by accident and I sort of forgot to ask what he meant.”

He snorted. “Not surprising. Well, I guess we know why they’re late.”

“No we don’t,” Rukia pointed out. “We just know they have a reason to not show up, not what the reason is.”

“Maybe Aizen’s getting ready to attack and they can’t sneak out any more,” Ichigo suggested glumly.

“Maybe Aizen caught them and they’re all **dead** ,” Renji suggested, a little ghoulishly.

Ichigo opened his mouth to reply, glanced at Orihime, and visibly swallowed what he’d been about to say. “Nah, I’m sure that’s not it,” he said hastily.

“Wanna bet? I’m just surprised it’s taken Aizen this long to work out what’s going on. He’s probably made an example-- OW! What was that for?!”

“ **So** sorry,” Rukia told him in syrupy tones that contrasted with her angry glare. “My foot slipped. I’m sure that Grimmjow **and Ulquiorra** and the others are just **fine**.” Behind her, Ichigo was making _“shut up shut up shut up”_ gestures and pointing at Orihime.

“Oh! Um. Yeah. They’re probably okay. They’re tough, and Ulquiorra’s pretty smart, I think.”

Orihime’s worried expression lightened a little, but not much. “They are, and he is, but… they’re all afraid of Aizen, I think.”

Ichigo snorted. “I don’t think Grimmjow’s afraid of anything, except maybe Yachiru.”

“Well of course Jaegerjaques-kun wouldn’t **say** he was afraid,” she replied in a matter-of-fact tone. “He just gets sulky and grouchy and kind of scrunches up any time Aizen’s name comes up, which isn’t that often after all because nobody wants to talk about him. It’s a boy thing. You do it too.”

“I do not!”

Rukia grinned slyly. “Oh look, Rangiku-san brought more sake!”

Ichigo scowled and hunched his shoulders defensively, and Renji snickered.

“Don’t laugh, Renji, or I’ll demonstrate that you do exactly the same thing,” Rukia said sweetly, and he flushed.

“I don’t-- uh-- you don’t have anything on me! Er. Isn’t it your turn to patrol?”

As she drew breath to answer, a small Garganta abruptly ripped open in the air above the valley. Shinigami spectators looked up from their seats, some rising to their feet and reaching for their sword hilts as they checked to see who was arriving. There was a flash of white and light green within the opening portal, and then the Garganta closed as suddenly as it had opened.

“Was that Lilynette?” Ichigo said uncertainly, squinting up at the now-empty night sky. “Maybe she-- hey, what’s that?”

“It’s a note!” Orihime darted across the rutted grass and cracked rocks, snatching at the fluttering piece of paper as it drifted just out of reach. With one last jump, she caught one corner and brandished it in triumph, a moment before she tripped on a shattered tree root and faceplanted into the dirt. “…Ow.”

Ichigo sighed, rubbing one hand through his messy hair as he strolled over. “You okay, Inoue?”

“Mmph. Yes,” Orihime assured him, lifting her grass-stained face. Without getting up, she unfolded the note and squinted at it. After a slight pause, she turned it up the other way and squinted again. “…Lilynette-chan’s handwriting is **terrible**.”

“Lemme have a look.” Ichigo plucked it out of her hands, squinted at it… turned it sideways, squinted at it… “Is this even in Japanese?”

Rukia snatched the note away from him and glared at it. “Idiot! It’s perfectly legible! It says, ‘Can’t come today, maybe not for a while either. Will let you know when things change. Sorry.’”

“Well of course **you’re** the only person who can read it,” Ichigo muttered, not quite quietly enough, and her eyes narrowed.

“Is that supposed to mean something?”

“Well…” He hesitated, then started to back away slowly. “I just think that Lilynette might be able to understand your drawings…”

* * * * *

Grimmjow sidled into the Espada’s meeting room, looking around surreptitiously, and slid along the wall to stand next to Ulquiorra. “D’you know what he wants?” he muttered under his breath.

“No.”

“I wonder what he wants,” Grimmjow went on, hunching down slightly and glaring at the door.

“Stand up straight,” Ulquiorra snapped, eyes narrowing slightly in annoyance. “You look suspicious.”

“I can’t help it!”

“Then at least try to stand with your usual arrogant slouch instead of cringing like that.”

Grimmjow straightened up with a snarl, glaring at him. “I am not **cringing**!”

“Not any more,” Ulquiorra agreed. “Keep it up.”

Whatever Grimmjow might have said in reply was lost as several more Espada entered, and Ulquiorra took his seat. Starrk was last to arrive, yawning hugely as he strolled in the door, and Aizen walked in immediately behind him, flanked by Gin and Tousen. The renegade ex-Captain was smiling benevolently as he took his seat at the head of the table, and everyone turned towards him, almost involuntarily.

_His charisma is frightening,_ Ulquiorra thought, watching the three Shinigami settle themselves. _His influence over us, even those of us who now wish to leave… and I would not have seen that as a problem a month ago,_ he realised, eyes widening fractionally. _Has associating with other Shinigami changed me -- us -- so much? Why? I thought of it, of **them** , as nothing more than relief from boredom--_

He remembered Orihime, worried about him, and shifted uncertainly in his seat. Worried **for** him. Why should she care?

He realised that Aizen was speaking, and dragged his attention back to the room.

“--pleased to announce that we are nearly ready to act,” the ex-Captain was saying, smile widening. “There are only a few necessary preparations left. I--”

“Oh, so this **isn’t** about Grimmjow and Ulquiorra’s little secret?” Szayel interrupted, raising one eyebrow theatrically. “What a shame! I was looking forward to finding out what that was about.”

_Idiot,_ Ulquiorra thought coldly as Tousen’s blind face turned first towards Szayel, then himself. _Tousen was very likely to ‘punish’ you for interrupting without waiting to see what you had to say._ He didn’t respond, still looking attentively at Aizen as if waiting for him to resume; across the table, Grimmjow growled under his breath.

“What’s this, Szayelaporro?” Aizen asked, eyebrows lifting. “Do you have something to report?”

“They’ve been sneaking out of Las Noches at night for weeks,” Szayel told him, managing to sound concerned. “I think they’ve been leaving Hueco Mundo and going to the living world, and recently Starrk’s been going along with them. I tried to find out what was going on, but--” he shrugged, spreading his hands wide “--they’ve been very careful not to be followed, and, well, Ulquiorra threatened me when I asked him what was going on.”

“I threatened to kill you if you tried to bug me again, you mean,” Ulquiorra said flatly, shifting his gaze to study the other Espada as if he were one of his own bugs.

“And why didn’t you report this earlier, if you’ve known it was happening for weeks?” Tousen asked, frowning. Szayel flinched.

“I-- I didn’t want to bother Aizen-sama with mere suspicions!” he said hastily. “It would have been a waste of his time, I thought--”

“Indeed it would have been,” Aizen said genially, folding his hands on the table. “It might still be. What **have** you been up to, Ulquiorra?”

He couldn’t decide whether he was glad Aizen hadn’t asked Grimmjow, or annoyed that Aizen assumed he was in charge of whatever they were doing. Blinking calmly, he turned back towards the head of the table and took a breath--

Gin laughed. “Hey, Szayel, you shoulda asked me! I coulda told ya it’s nothin’ to worry about.” His permanent smile widened as he tilted his head towards Aizen. “They’ve just been sparrin’. Gettin’ a little practice in, y’know? I think they were gettin’ bored, is all.”

“Really?” Tousen turned towards Gin and scowled. “Then why the secrecy?”

“Waaal,” Gin drawled, “if I had someone sneakin’ around tryin’ to find out what I was up to and actin’ like I had somethin’ to hide when I wasn’t doin’ nothin’ wrong, I wouldn’t tell him on general principles, y’know?”

“Like we wanted **him** following us around!” Grimmjow snorted, glaring at Szayel (and scratching covertly under the table).

“I see,” Aizen said, a faint trace of irritation showing in his voice, and waved his hand to dismiss the interruption. “As I was saying--”

Ulqiorra stared at Gin for a long moment, fingers tightening on his knees. _Why did he intervene? Why did he cover for us? What does he **know**?!_ As if feeling his gaze, the silver-haired Shinigami turned to face him and smirked, eyes squeezing into even narrower slits than usual for a moment before he turned back towards Aizen.

Shaken, Ulquiorra focussed on what Aizen was saying again, just in time.

“--will be modified to act as a counter to the Soutaichou’s zanpakutou,” he said, finishing some sort of explanation. “Once that is taken care of, there is one more thing I will need. Ulquiorra!”

“Yes, Aizen-sama?” he responded. He was relieved that his voice came out perfectly calm.

“I want you to kidnap Inoue Orihime and bring her here.”


	6. Make It Look Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuing the completely and totally INSANE Bleach silly fic, by Mel and Christy. Now with actual plot!  
> (Kenpachi + Ichigo + Grimmjow, Ulquiorra + Orihime, AU, OOC, language, moderately crackfic)

“I want you to kidnap Inoue Orihime and bring her here.”

“Certainly, Aizen-sama,” Ulquiorra responded after a long, slow blink. “Do you have any particular requirements as to timing or method?”

Aizen waved one hand lazily, smiling. “Within the next couple of days, and with as little fuss as possible. I would greatly prefer it if you could make it appear as if she has left of her own free will, although--” His smile widened, faintly taunting. “--I realise that may be difficult.”

Ulquiorra blinked again, thinking fast. _Aimed at Grimmjow or Szayel, that would make them determined to prove they could do whatever ‘difficult’ task he suggested,_ part of his mind mused as the rest worked quickly through the problem of how to come up with an escape plan that would work within two days. _Aimed at myself or Starrk… we see it for what it is. Manipulation. He doesn’t understand us as well as he thinks he does._

The thought was calming.

“It should be easy enough, given her personality,” he said flatly. “A simple threat to someone else will probably produce complete cooperation. The only difficulty will be catching her when she is out of energy sensing range of any Shinigami in the area.”

Grimmjow was practically vibrating in his seat, but Ulquiorra didn’t dare kick him or give any other signal to restrain himself; anything obvious enough for the panther Arrancar to work out what he meant would be as bad as standing on the table and yelling at the top of his lungs. Gin turned towards him and grinned slyly. “Y’look pretty keyed up there, Grimmjow. Sure you’re okay?”

“We’re actually gonna get to **do** something?!” Grimmjow asked, grinning. His eyes were a little wide, but there were enough teeth showing to convince anyone of his enthusiasm. “Damn straight I’m okay! It’s about time!”

“You and Starrk can be a distraction, if you like,” Ulquiorra suggested in a bored voice, and saw his grin widen before turning to Harribel. “Harribel, your Fraccion would be very useful for identifying the right moment to confront Inoue. If Aizen-sama has no objection--” He glanced towards the head of the table, got a nod of assent, and continued. “--we could discuss tactics after the meeting.”

“Why **her** Fraccion?” Szayel asked suspiciously. Ulquiorra didn’t even bother to glance at him.

“Unlike yours, they understand the concept of ‘stealth’.”

\- - - - -

After the meeting broke up, Aizen dismissing them all to their appointed tasks, Harribel joined Ulquiorra, Grimmjow, and Starrk in an apparently-casual stroll to a quiet corner outside Las Noches’ walls.

“How long can your Fraccion operate in Karakura without being detected by patrolling Shinigami?” Ulquiorra began, glancing around.

Harribel shrugged, watching him carefully. “Barring bad luck? Indefinitely. Kurosaki and his friends put out enough uncontrolled energy that nobody can reliably track anyone who’s being careful. So long as they don’t keep opening Gargantas to come back here – which they won’t – and they don’t start eating random passers-by – which they won’t – they should go undetected unless somebody literally walks into them.”

“I thought so. I haven’t had much opportunity to observe them, but what I have seen led me to believe that they have at least a minimum of common sense… unlike others. Grimmjow?”

Grimmjow snarled and jumped, pouncing behind the rock Ulquiorra had indicated with one finger, and there was a frantic squealing sound as Lumina and Verona scuttled away. “Piss off!” he roared after them, half-charging a Cero and then letting it dissipate with a discontented growl as they disappeared into a ravine. “Go tell Szayel to find someone else to stalk!”

“He doesn’t seem to have bugged us otherwise,” Starrk remarked, sitting down with a sigh and leaning back, eyes closed. “Maybe he hoped that’d make us think he’d given up, and not look around enough to find his Fraccion?”

“Maybe he took me seriously when I told him I’d kill him,” Ulquiorra said, and turned back to Harribel. “We intend to leave and join the Shinigami against Aizen,” he said bluntly. “Will you come with us?”

Grimmjow squawked. “What– you– **fuck** , Ulquiorra, aren’t you supposed to be the subtle one?!” Even Starrk opened one eye to look at him, appearing mildly surprised.

“There is nothing to be gained by delay at this point. Well?”

Harribel was eyeing Ulquiorra with obvious interest. “You wouldn’t be asking if you weren’t sure of the answer. What makes you so certain I’m on your side?”

“Nelliel.”

Harribel stiffened, and Starrk opened both eyes. “What’s she got to do with this? She vanished–”

“Nnoitra ambushed her with Szayel’s help,” Ulquiorra told him, eyes still locked on Harribel’s. “He didn’t manage to kill her, but she was… significantly reduced in power. Harribel has been–”

“We’re friends,” she bit out, voice low.

“–visiting her,” Ulquiorra finished. “By Aizen’s reasoning, Nelliel was beaten – never mind the method – and therefore she is obsolete. Discarded. Nnoitra and Szayel are still useful to him, so he will support them.”

“They never would have beaten her in a fair fight.”

“Aizen doesn’t believe in fair fights.”

“No.” She laughed bitterly, the sound slightly muffled by her high collar. “He doesn’t. Even when he doesn’t **need** to fight dirty, he’ll do it by choice. Szayel and Nnoitra are just his style.”

Ulquiorra nodded. “Nor does he value loyalty, except when it’s directed towards him. The moment we are no longer useful to him, or he sees an advantage to be gained by sacrificing us, he will do so without a second thought. As you saw with Nelliel, he won’t punish anyone for harming one of his followers, or avenge them, no matter what they’ve done for him in the past. You’re intelligent enough to see that, and personally invested in Nelliel’s fate… which is why I think you would **like** to be on our side. Will you come with us?”

Harribel crossed her arms, almost hugging herself. “…On one condition.”

“Name it.”

“Nel – Nelliel – comes too.”

“Agreed.”

She let out a long breath, almost a sigh. “I hope you’ve got a plan.”

* * * * *

There was a faint sound further down the corridor, fabric brushing against the wall, a foot scuffing slightly against the floor, and Tousen spun to face that direction, one hand on his sword hilt. “Who’s there?!”

“Tousen-sama. Aizen-sama. Good evening.”

“Ah, Ulquiorra,” Aizen said affably, one hand lightly touching Tousen’s shoulder, signaling him to relax. “Were you looking for me?”

“Yes.” A pale form stepped forwards out of the shadows, green eyes bright in his expressionless face. “We’re about to leave for the living world; I thought I’d check to see if you had any further orders before we go.”

“You’re collecting Inoue?”

Ulquiorra nodded, and Aizen smiled.

“Excellent. No, no further orders; just report directly to me once you have her. I’ve got a job for her to do.” His smile thinned, turning cruel. “I might need you to help me convince her to accept it, though.”

The Espada shrugged one shoulder slightly and vanished without another word, fading back into the shadows as if he’d never been there. Aizen looked after him for a moment, drumming his fingers on his swordhilt, then nodded to himself.

“If he’s fetching Inoue now, I’ll wait until later to ‘adjust’ Wonderweiss,” he said thoughtfully to Tousen, turning back the way they had come. “If I modify him after she’s removed the flaw from the Hougyoku, he’ll be able to contain Yamamoto’s sword for longer.”

Tousen frowned. “You don’t need him to last long.”

“No, but it’ll be nice to have a little extra time just in case…” Their voices faded as they turned a corner, echoes garbling them into unintelligibility, and the glowing panels in the ceiling dimmed.

Somewhere in the darkness, a lock clicked.

* * * * *

Ichigo stood on a roof staring out over Karakura and frowned, absent-mindedly rubbing one hand through his spiky orange hair.

_It’s only been three days since the last time Grimmjow and the others came over for a match. Nothing else has happened, and I’m pretty sure they would have done **something** to warn us if Aizen was about to attack… I mean, if they could. I’m sure they’d be able to manage something. Okay, not Grimmjow, if he had to evade surveillance or whatever he’d be kind of at a loss, but Starrk and Sadface – uh, Ulquiorra – seem pretty smart, and I mean, they sent Lilynette with a note once, they’d manage to pull something off…_

_…if they tried._ His frown deepened. _We’re… kinda friends now? Maybe? They **would** try to warn us, right?_

“Hey Ichigo,” Grimmjow said right behind him, and he spun around with a grin on his face and relief in his heart just in time to get a low-powered Cero in the face.

* * * * *

“So it’s not on tonight either?”

Rukia shook her head, looking up at Renji from her position seated on the parapet of a bridge, feet swinging over the long drop to the water below. “No, Ichigo says he’s not interested if half the schedule is off.”

“In other words, if he can’t play with Grimmjow he doesn’t want to play with Kenpachi,” Renji said dryly, squatting on his heels next to her. “Damn. Zaraki-taichou’s going to be pissed when I tell him.”

“So tell one of his seated officers and let them pass the word. Or tell Yachiru.”

“Heck no, if I tell her **she’ll** be pissed!”

Rukia snorted, drawing up one knee to rest her arms on. “Coward.”

“Sensible,” Renji retorted, rolling his eyes.

They fell silent for a few minutes, watching the water below, before Renji sighed. “Think they’re ever going to come back?”

“One way or another, definitely,” Rukia said darkly, and he groaned.

“You know what I meant! For the matches, not for– for–”

“I know what you meant. How should I know?” She paused, biting at her lip, and sighed. “I hope so. I think they will, if they can, but…”

“Yeah. If.” Renji scowled, shoving his sunglasses further up onto his forehead. “Wonder how long it’ll be before we find out.”

There was the faintest warning flicker of reiatsu, a flutter of air, and Starrk and Lilynette flashed into view on either side of them.

“Yo,” Lilynette said calmly, raising her sword over Rukia’s head.

“Duck,” Starrk suggested, swinging his down at Renji.

* * * * *

Ulquiorra hesitated for a bare fraction of a second, then lifted one hand and knocked quietly on the door. There was a squeak and pattering footsteps from within, a series of clicks and rattles, and then the door was flung open by a beaming Inoue Orihime.

“Tatsuki-chan! You’re early! I was just– oh! Cifer-kun?”

“May we come in?”

“Certainly!” she said without hesitation, then blinked as the ‘we’ registered. “Is Jaegerjaques-kun with you–?”

“No. This is Tier Harribel,” Ulquiorra said, stepping inside. Harribel followed, closing the door behind her and leaning against it, arms folded.

“I’m Inoue Orihime. Pleased to meet you,” Orihime said cheerfully, dipping into a curtsey.

“…Likewise,” Harribel said after a moment, eyebrows rising.

“I’m so glad you’re okay!” the human girl went on happily, turning back to Ulquiorra. “Everyone’s been worried, even Zaraki-san. Well, he won’t **say** it, you know how he is, but he’s been grumbling the way he does when he’s trying to act mad but he’s really worried. Is everything all right now?”

“…No. We…” He faltered, unable to continue for a moment. _Why? I planned this, I know what to do–_ “…I… need to kidnap you.” He’d intended to say more, explain, blunt words to hammer home the need for her to obey, but the words seemed to rise up and choke him.

“All right.”

Harribel sputtered with badly-suppressed laughter as Orihime straightened up, chin lifting, expression determined. “Really?! You’re just going to go along with this?!”

“If Cifer-kun says that’s what he needs to do,” Orihime said simply. “Do I have time to pack?”

“No,” he managed, and she nodded, moving quickly to the low table and grabbing a notepad sitting there.

“Okay. Just a second… ” She wrote quickly, then dropped the pen and joined Harribel by the door, tugging on a pair of sneakers and picking up her shoulder bag. “Done! Where are we going?”

“…Not far.”

* * * * *

“What the hell–?!”

Picking himself up out of the wreckage of the wall the Cero had blown him into and through, Ichigo looked up just in time to flip out of the way as Grimmjow barreled at him fist-first, grinning maniacally. The Arrancar smacked down in the rubble hard enough to rattle windows for blocks around, springing back without a pause and tackling Ichigo, one hand wrapped around his wrist preventing him from drawing Zangetsu, the other smacking into his face and driving him head-first into the next wall.

“Fuck– Grimmjow! What the **fuck** do you think– OW!”

“Make it look good,” Grimmjow said in his ear, grin fixed and eyes too wide and wild. “I ain’t trying to kill you, honest, but we gotta make this look good!”

Ichigo planted one foot in Grimmjow’s stomach and kicked, flipping the Arrancar over his head and – accidentally, but luckily – into a small park, deserted at this hour of night. _Right. Something’s up, we’re probably being watched, and everything’s got to look right… heh._ His eyes narrowed, and he started to grin himself as he plunged after his opponent, Zangetsu out and ready. _Well, it’s not like we haven’t had practice lately at fighting seriously without actually killing each other!_

He struck, Grimmjow dodged, Ichigo ducked the counterattack, and they were back to sparring as if they’d never stopped, as if he’d never had to wonder if his opponent – his **friend** – was ever coming back.

* * * * *

“Just hit me as hard as you can, and I’ll pull my shots,” Starrk suggested, and Renji’s hair seemed to bristle as he scowled.

“Are you calling me weak?!”

Starrk shrugged. “I’m saying that this has to look good, and I don’t think you can pull your shots without it showing.”

Renji froze, eyes widening. “ **Look** good?”

Starrk flickered again, reappearing right behind him. “We’re being watched,” he murmured, before kicking Renji across the river and into the trees below; he watched the Shinigami’s flight intently, relaxing slightly when it became apparent he’d landed unhurt. “Lilynette! Can you handle yours?”

An undignified snort was his only response, and he smiled as he leapt after his opponent.

“You think you can handle me?” Rukia asked in an even voice, and Lilynette rolled her eyes.

“Well **duh**.”

“Sode no Shirayuki,” Rukia said calmly, spinning her sword in front of her. “ **Dance**.”

Freezing-cold air blasted out around her, and Lilynette jumped backwards, yelping and slapping frost off her legs.

“How about you just hit me as hard as you can, and **I’ll** pull my shots?” Rukia suggested, and Lilynette scowled.


End file.
